


How Dare You

by onecent



Series: Eyes and Ears [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel
Genre: Eyes and Ears, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton falls into a dumpster and makes a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint Barton was having a bad day. He'd run into a bunch of dead ends on all his searches, and then some people had gotten antsy and decided to intimidate him into backing off. This lesson involved chasing him down and attacking him on a rooftop. In a flash of real Hawkeye brilliance, he escaped the crew of heavily armed mobsters by jumping off the roof. He managed to grab the railing of the fire escape a few times, slowing his fall, but as he fell the last story into a large dumpster, he could only think "this is gonna hurt."

And when he woke up some time later, he could tell he was right. He suspected he had a concussion, probably some bruised ribs, and his ankle was definitely not supposed to be that color. He took a few minutes to focus on breathing before trying to haul himself out of the dumpster.

Before he could do more than raise his hand, a long stick clattered into the dumpster and knocked him in the head. "Oof!" He winced and inspected the stick. Eventually his brain recognized it as a blind person's cane. "What the hell? Who-?" Was someone mugging a blind person? He couldn't hear sounds of a struggle, but that might just be a problem with his hearing aids. A quick check showed one aid completely gone, but the other still seemed intact.

Clint scrambled up and out of the dumpster, still holding the cane. The alley was empty except for a man running full-pelt toward the wall across the alley.

"Hey!" Clint shouted. "You dropped something!"

The man didn't pause. Instead, he launched himself up to land on a generator and jumped again to grab the ledge of a window. He swung up again to get his feet on the windowsill and leapt out again without pause. He jumped across the alley and grabbed the same fire escape Clint had tried to latch onto during his earlier fall. Unlike Clint, this man landed successfully on the stairs and started running up.

"Hey!" Clint shouted again. "I want to talk to you!" In a desperate move, he threw the cane like a javelin at the man's head, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

At the last minute, the man jerked his head back and the cane clattered against the brick wall of the building before falling onto the fire escape. The man leaned over the edge of the railing to look at Clint.

"Finally," Clint muttered. "You get your kicks mugging blind guys?" he called up. "'Cause that's gonna put a damper on our relationship."

Clint could see the man's mouth moving, but he couldn't hear what was being said. "Aw hell." Clint pulled out his remaining hearing aid and flicked it a few times. "Why aren't you working this time?" He twisted the controls and squinted at the device.

The other man dropped in front of him. He staggered on his feet and held his hands over his ears. "Turn it off!" he said, clearly enough for Clint to easily read his lips. Clint quickly spun the dial the other way, and the man sagged in relief.

Clint took in the man's outfit, all skintight black with a mask tied around the top half of his face. "Oh," he said, "crap. Where am I? Am I in Hell's Kitchen? Are-are you that new vigilante they're talking about? The devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

The man rolled his eyes. He seemed to be over whatever audio issue had been going on before. "Not my name choice," he said. Clint was grateful he wasn't trying to say anything too complicated while he was lip reading.

"You got a better one picked out?"

The man just frowned.

"Then you're the Devil until you get something new chosen. Sorry, buddy. Also sorry about interrupting your chase. I guess you were after the muggers?"

The Devil looked confused. Clint pointed up to the fire escape, where the cane was still sitting. "They took out the blind guy? Threw the cane in the dumpster and added an impressive bruise to my collection?"

"Why were you in the dumpster?" the Devil asked. He even pointed from Clint to said dumpster and shrugged.

"Long story involving some Russian mobsters and some bad decisions. I'd rather not go into detail." Clint rubbed his head. "If you know who the guys were, I could probably help you track them down. I've got a little experience with this stuff and some friends with good resources."

The Devil was shaking his head before the question was finished. "It's personal," he said. Or maybe "it's birth canal," but Clint was betting on the first one.

"Seriously," Clint said, "let me help. I'm certainly not going to let some guy go around mugging disabled people. That's personal for me, too."

The Devil looked away and grimaced.

"I'm actually a superhero, too. Maybe you've heard of me? Hawkeye? I'm with the Avengers?"

The guy shrugged. Clint bit back a sharp response. Still, his face twisted up. Okay, so maybe people don't notice him right away, but shouldn't people at least know that he exists? "Well, okay then...if you're sure you want to do this on your own." Clint gave the Devil a hurt puppy look, but there was absolutely no response. This guy was a rock. "Let me know if you want help. I'm in Bed-Stuy, just ask around for Clint Barton."

The Devil nodded and headed back for the fire escape. He vaulted himself up again and was quickly running along the rooftop. Clint watched him go. Before leaving, his eye caught on the cane, still on the fire escape. "Well at least I can return that," he said to himself.

It took some creative tossing up of various pieces of whatever was lying around to get the cane to fall back to the ground, but he did eventually manage to get it. He grabbed it and hobbled out of the alley, actually using the cane to help walk on the bad ankle.

"Aww..." he said, patting the pockets he suddenly realized were woefully empty, "wallet..."


	2. Chapter 2

Matt Murdock was actually sort of impressed with himself. Despite a long chase across the rooftops of Hell's Kitchen (interrupted no less than three times by various bystanders), a long fight involving plenty of bruises and pain on both ends, and only crawling into bed at three in the morning, he'd still managed to show up for work. And he'd only needed four cups of coffee to get out of the apartment.

He paused outside the offices of Landman and Zack to down the last of his fifth coffee of the day and throw away the cup. Then, sighing, he stepped inside.

As soon as he walked in, one of the people sitting in the lobby popped their head up. They stood, shaky, and grabbed a crutch off the seat next to them. Matt ignored them and headed straight for the elevator. He tried not to look too much like he was rushing.

"Matt Murdock?" The voice was low and familiar, but Matt couldn't quite place it.

"Damn," he muttered to himself. Still, he turned with a polite smile and looked at a spot just past the man's shoulder. As the man finished hobbling forward on his crutch, Matt tried to figure out where he knew him from. A former client? An old school buddy?

"Hell of a shiner you got there," the guy said.

"An accident," Matt said. "Can I help you?"

"Right, yeah, sorry." The guy fumbled with his crutch. He peeled part of it away, and Matt realized he'd been holding something else there, obscured from his senses. "This is yours, I think?"

Matt held out a hand. He recognized the item as soon as it was in his hand, and with that realization he was able to place this man as one of the helpful bystanders from last night. The so-called superhero, Hawk-guy or whatever. Matt hadn't had time or energy to look up or remember any more information. "Oh," he said. "Thank you. How did you know how to, er, who...?"

"Basic research, mostly. I'm pretty good at tracking people down. Sort of my job, actually. Just glad I could help."

Matt tucked the extra cane under his arm and smiled. "Well, thanks for the help. I'm afraid I have to get to work now, though."

"Right, right." Hawk-guy waved. "I'll see you, then."

Matt didn't realize he'd caught the coin flying toward his chest until it was in his hand. When had the guy even  _thrown_ that? It hardly mattered, though, since it looked like the damage was done. He didn't even have to see Hawk-guy's smile to know it was there.

"I get lunch at noon," Matt offered with a sigh.

"Then I'll see you at noon. Have fun at work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love! There's probably only one more chapter in this part - hopefully that will be up tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint met Matt in the Landman & Zack lobby again. Matt made a beeline for the door, trusting Clint to follow. He headed for a small diner just down the street and selected a booth before Clint even managed to limp through the door.

"Coffee, black," Matt said.

Clint smiled at the waitress. "Same for me." He slid into the booth, propping his crutch against the seat next to him. He waited for the waitress to leave before looking at Matt with a huge smirk. "What the devil made you choose this place?"

"Guess I just have an eye for this stuff," Matt said, quirking an eyebrow.

Clint snort-laughed. "Good one."

Matt allowed himself a small smile. "Okay. So. Clint. How'd you find me?"

Clint shrugged. "Would you be upset if I said fingerprints? I did try looking for a name, but there weren't any other identifying markers. And I really did just want to help out a mugging victim. Those things can't be cheap to replace."

"Cheaper than hearing aids."

"Touche. Though I get mine on a special superhero discount. All right, my turn-" They were interrupted by the waitress coming with their drinks. Matt ordered his usual meal and Clint just copied him. He took a drink of his coffee and waited for the waitress to leave again. "Okay. Now. Blind?"

"Yeah. It's real. My eyes are pretty useless. Chemical spill. But it gave my other senses a boost. Hearing, touch, the whole thing. So I have a good sense of my surroundings. And the blindness doubles as a good cover. Which begs the question..."

"How did I identify blind lawyer Matt Murdock as the devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

Matt winced. "A little louder, please, I don't think they heard you in New Jersey."

"Sorry." Clint reached for his ear. "Am I yelling? I'm not always sure."

"No, it's just..." Matt sighed. "I'd rather we keep that information as quiet as possible."

"Right, sorry. But it looks like no one noticed, so we're good for now. God. Tasha'd have my head if I blew a secret identity."

"Tasha?"

"One question at a time. And it was your injuries. Your eye and whatever happened to make you walk favoring your right side could've happened while getting mugged, but I doubted that's what the bruised and scabbed knuckles were from."

Matt, suddenly self-conscious, tucked his hands under the table.

"Plus," Clint continued, "it's my job. I mentioned that part, right? I keep track of people. Once I noticed your knuckles, I just compared body types, voice, facial structure. Then, I made a guess." He pulled a coin out of his pocket and rolled it over his knuckles. "My turn. That costume? Really?"

Matt held up a hand and pointed toward the waitress, who was headed their direction with two club sandwiches. He smiled in her general direction and put off the question further by taking a big bite of his food. Eventually, he smiled at Clint and said, "From what I could tell, you are hardly one to talk."

Clint frowned, remembering his past costumes, some mentioned in excruciating detail on various obscure websites. "Okay, but mine was actual body armor. And I like purple."

"Was," Matt muttered. He wiped his face with a napkin. "It works for me. I need something light, for the way I move. Wearing anything heavy would impede my motion."

"If you say so," Clint said through a mouth of sandwich. "Your turn."

Matt debated for a moment before asking "Who else knows?"

"About you?"

A nod.

"Just me for now. And I'll keep it that way as long as I can, if you like. I do have a boss with S.H.I.E.L.D., and if he asks directly I'll need to say. Also I have a friend who is scary intuitive. If she thinks I know anything, there's not much I can keep from her."

"Tasha?"

Clint grunted agreement. "Other than that, I don't see any reason to bring it up." He looked expectantly at Matt. "This is where you say what you want."

"I...I'd definitely like to keep this between us. As much as possible, anyway. And you can trust these other people you mentioned?"

"They're the most close-mouthed people I know." Clint finished his coffee in a large swig. "Okay. Most important question. What are the chances Hawkeye and the Devil will pair up in the future to fight crime together?"

"I'll have to think about it," Matt said. Then he smiled. "But it doesn't sound entirely far-fetched. I guess we'll just have to see."


End file.
